


Set The World on Fire and Carry Me Home

by BookewyrmeWritesFic



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Plant Wrote This, Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Bar Fight, Bars and Pubs, Established Relationship, Fighting and making up, Future Fic, Jealous Otabek Altin, M/M, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookewyrmeWritesFic/pseuds/BookewyrmeWritesFic
Summary: “Ok.” Yuri pulled at his lip for a minute then turned around and crouched in front of Otabek. Otabek blinked stupidly at him, and he cocked an impatient eye over his shoulder. “Come on, Beka, climb on.”“No, I…” Otabek’s protest was weak even in his own ears.“Shut up and climb on you stubborn ass.” Yuri’s voice softened at the end. “It’s my turn to carry you home tonight.”





	Set The World on Fire and Carry Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, [ We Are Young by FUN](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv6dMFF_yts) came on the radio tonight, and then this happened. I never thought I'd be writing songfic, but here we are. And for some reason when I heard it, it spoke of Otayuri to me. And then the official music video set the scene for the bar fight. So, here's a little Otayuri bar-fight fic with a fluffy ending, because I love these two. Both are aged up (Otabek nearing retirement age), and my personal headcanon is that Yuri grows up to be very tall and willowy and keeps his hair extra long, so that's what I was thinking when I wrote him here, but if you imagine him another way then feel free. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. One of these days I'll update my other fics, but for now have this. :)

Otabek sat in the darkest corner of the bar watching a flame burn through the other drinkers on the dance-floor. Watching Yuri. Watching him dance, his hands in his long golden hair, body moving in sinuous curves, strangers grasping at him and surrounding him. Otabek scowled forbiddingly and took another swig of his beer, followed by a shot from a passing tray. Yuri moved like music incarnate, like a fire dancing in slow motion, a mere moment from burning all those around him with the heat of his passion. And Otabek, he couldn’t look away. No matter how much he tasted ash in his mouth every time Yuri ground back into the cradle of someone else’s hips, eyes lidded in pleasure, and red mouth smirking.

They’d had a fight earlier, just before entering the bar. Something stupid, inconsequential even. Otabek couldn’t even remember how it started. But it ended in icy silence and them going their own ways in the bar, staying on opposite sides of their group. And now this. Yuri, his Yuri, rubbing it in his face that he could have anyone he wanted, and maybe he didn’t need to settle for a nearly retired skater and mediocre DJ like Otabek. Followed by Otabek drinking and scowling in the gloom. Their friends were steering clear, which both suited him and made him want to growl more. 

Several drinks later, the DJ finished his set and a girl with purple hair took his place, playing mellower jams. Yuri unwound himself from his current partner and snaked through the crowd to the bar. Otabek stood, swaying slightly, and began to make his way toward his boyfriend. Better to get this over with. He had nearly reached the spot where Yuri’s golden head towered over the other patrons when he heard Yuri’s deep voice raise over the noise, spitting obscenities. 

“I said fuck _off_ , asshole. Get fucking _bent_!!”

Otabek pushed through the last couple of people just in time to see a burly blonde man grab Yuri’s long hair in a tight fist, yanking the taller man down a little. Otabek’s vision blurred, his narrowed eyes focusing on that hand in the pale hair. He was moving before he knew it, shoving startled patrons out of his way. Just before Otabek’s fist connected with the stranger’s face, he heard the slurred sneer. 

“Stupid lil slut, should teach you t’ take it like a--”

There was a satisfying crunch as he was cut off, followed by a crash of glass as the man flew across the bar. Yuri shrieked in rage and pain as the man’s hand was ripped from his hair, but Otabek was too busy fending off the man’s friend, who landed a dizzying blow to Otabek’s head, to take much notice. He staggered, but straightened and focused on the new threat, driving his fist into the man’s stomach with enough force to knock him breathless. The first man scrambled over the bar again, bleeding from his nose and numerous glass-wounds. Otabek ducked low and used the man’s momentum to hurl him bodily into a nearby table.  
All hell broke loose. People shoved, shouted, screamed, fought. Glass broke, wood splintered, liquids of various types flew. Otabek took several more knocks from knees and elbows and fists. A cut opened over his eye, and he was growing short of breath. He was an experience brawler, and this was not his first bar-fight, but this was turning into an all out riot. A hand grabbed his wrist and he swung around, aiming for a face. He just managed to pull his punch before it connected with Yuri’s grin. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here!” Yuri shouted in his direction. Otabek nodded and staggered after him, letting Yuri lead him through the heaving, shouting mass of people until they were able to spill out the back door into an alley.

In the alley, the cold air and the stink hit him and he stumbled, heaving. Falling to his knees, he threw up. Too many drinks and too many blows to the stomach. The world spun a bit, and he leaned against the wall. 

“Hold on, I just...need a minute,” he wheezed. 

Yuri’s concerned face swam into view. “You ok?”

“Yea.”

“Ok.” Yuri pulled at his lip for a minute then turned around and crouched in front of Otabek. Otabek blinked stupidly at him, and he cocked an impatient eye over his shoulder. “Come on, Beka, climb on.”

“No, I…” Otabek’s protest was weak even in his own ears.

“Shut up and climb on you stubborn ass.” Yuri’s voice softened at the end. “It’s my turn to carry you home tonight.”

Otabek’s resistance crumbled and he draped himself across the other man’s narrow shoulders. He rested his face in the crook of Yuri’s neck, breathing the scent of his shampoo mixed with sweat and alcohol. 

“Ok.”

Yuri stood and carried him in silence for a while. The cool air began to clear Otabek’s head a little. 

“Yura,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” 

“I’m sorry. About earlier. I over-reacted.”

Yuri’s shoulder twitched. “Yea. But. I shouldn’t have said you were being a stodgy old man. Victor’s the only old man around here. And Yakov.”

Otabek smiled, hearing the apology in Yuri’s voice. He lipped a small kiss against Yuri’s skin. _All is forgiven_. Yuri shivered under him. They were quiet for another block. 

“Thanks. For punching that guy.” Yuri’s voice broke the silence of the midnight street.

Otabek grinned into his boyfriend’s hair. “Gotta defend my man’s honor. Besides, after having to watch you grind all over half the bar, I was spoiling for a fight. It felt good.”

There was a short embarrassed silence then Yuri muttered, “Yea, sorry bout that too. I was...that was a bit out of line.”

“Yea.” Otabek paused, his cheeks growing warm. “Pretty hot though.”

Yuri jerked, turning his head to look at Otabek. “What?”

Otabek shifted, shrugging and hiding his face in the warm shoulder before him. 

Yuri made a thoughtful sound in his throat and continued walking. The bus-stop loomed up ahead. Just before they reached it, Yuri’s low voice caressed his ears.

“It was pretty hot watching you fight, too.”

They rode the bus in silence, walked hand in hand back to their shared flat in silence, and opened the door to be greeted by Potya and the puppy Asel. Otabek shucked off his leather jacket, letting Yuri hang it next to his leopard print one beside the door. They kicked off their shoes and shuffled to the bedroom. Yuri detoured to the bathroom and met him with bandages, cotton gauze, and antiseptic. Otabek scowled, but let Yuri take care of him. It had taken him several years to allow Yuri to care for him, always feeling he had to be the one caring for the younger, slighter, man. But Yuri had fought him, and eventually won, insisting they were either in this together, equals, taking care of each other, or Otabek should get stuffed (Yuri used more colorful language though). 

Yuri cleaned, bandaged, and gently kissed each of Otabek’s wounds in comfortable silence. Otabek took the supplies after he was done and cared for the few scrapes Yuri had sustained in the bar-fight. Then they stripped and tucked themselves into bed, Yuri’s face pressed into the bare skin of Otabek’s shoulder, and Otabek’s legs wound through Yuri’s longer limbs. 

Otabek pulled Yuri’s head back for a last, lingering good-night kiss. “I love you.”  
“I love you too, you idiot,” Yuri growled, tucking himself back under Otabek’s chin. 

Otabek smiled as he drifted off. It hadn’t been such a bad night after all. Any night ending with Yuri in his arms was worth whatever pain it took to get there.


End file.
